


5 Times Clara Just Couldn’t Resist

by starklyman



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gen, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 23:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklyman/pseuds/starklyman
Summary: 5 times Clara couldn’t resist kissing the life out of the Doctor and 1 time he couldn’t.





	5 Times Clara Just Couldn’t Resist

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing for these two fools so I hope you all like it! Comments are appreciated.

**1.**

 

As soon as she steps into the TARDIS, she’s assaulted by the sound of the Doctor and his guitar.

 

His coat and vest have been haphazardly thrown over the chair by the console. The amp sits on the floor next to the chair, the longest cord she thinks she’s ever seen leading up to the top of the stairs where the Doctor stands, head bent in concentration and the tip of his tongue just barely peeking out between his lips.

 

His hair is tousled and his face is slightly damp from sweat. The sleeves of his white shirt have been rolled up to his elbows, showing off the lean muscles in his forearms and biceps nicely. His fingers move expertly over the strings and she recognizes what he’s playing as the guitar riff from Bohemian Rhapsody.

 

He stops once he notices her presence and bounds down the steps two at a time, crooked grin lighting up his face as he comes to a stop in front of her.

 

“Clara, I thought-“

 

He’s stopped by her hands finding their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the silver curls and her mouth, swallowing the rest of his sentence. He makes a small noise of surprise against her mouth, but is quick to respond. His mouth opens against hers, at her insistence, and their tongues tangle and glide over one another. She nips gently at his bottom lip and breaks away, breathing heavily.

 

His eyebrows raise in question and his hair is sticking up even more than it was before, making Clara smirk.

 

She lets out a breath before saying “That was fucking hot.”

 

His surprised look turns into a smirk and his blue eyes glint and Clara can only let out a growl before she’s snogging the life out of him once again.

 

**2.**

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no Doctor, you are not wearing that.”

 

It was Clara’s turn to pick their destination this time and, like any sensible, exhausted, out-adventured time traveler, she picks a nice 21st century Caribbean beach.

 

Lately it seems no matter where or when they go, they always find themselves thrown headfirst into danger and end up running and saving people and, on one memorable occasion, end up having to spend hours getting some kind of purple goop out of their clothes and off their bodies.

 

So Clara benevolently decided that what the two of them needed more than anything was a break.

 

The Doctor frowns and looks down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I always wear this.”

 

“That’s the problem. Look at what I’m wearing then look back at yourself.”

 

Clara was wearing light teal shorts and a loose fitting white tank top. The strings of her white bikini peeked out of the neckline at the back of her shirt and she wore white flip flops on her feet. The Doctor, in stark contrast, was wearing his usual outfit of all black everything, including the coat and boots.

 

“We’re going to a beach, Doctor, you don’t need to wear jeans or a coat or boots. Go change.”

 

“But, Clara-“

 

“No. Change. Now.”

 

His face looked like that of a petulant child about to throw a fit, but he simply huffed and walked back into the depths of the TARDIS.

 

“Less black!” She called to his retreating back.

 

Clara waited for him in the wingback chair, idly flipping through a book he left out on the history of mac and cheese before she finally heard his footsteps.

 

He stood in front of her wearing blue swimming trunks with a white stripe down the side, a shade of blue that looked suspiciously similar to the TARDIS. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, instead holding a white and black t shirt in either hand and the shoes he was wearing nearly made her laugh out loud.

 

“Doctor are those- Are you wearing Vans?” She asked with a laugh.

 

He looked down self-consciously at the bright white Vans he was currently wearing them scowled at her.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I told the TARDIS in no uncertain terms that I refuse to wear flip flops and these are what she picked out instead. What’s wrong with them?”

 

He looked so sad and confused that she couldn’t help but take pity on him.

 

“Nothing, nothing I just didn’t expect you to be the Vans-wearing type is all.” Understatement of the century.

 

“Well, anyway, I need your help. You said less black so I brought the white one out, but I really like the black one.”

 

He held both t shirts out, his eyes wide and imploring. She stood up from the chair and trailed her fingers down his chest, lightly snapping the waistband of his swimming trunks.

 

“I don’t know. I think you look pretty good without any shirt.” Her voice was low as she drank in the sight of his lean, muscular body, not used to seeing him with so little clothing except in the bedroom.

 

“ _Clara_.” His voice was pleading and that did it for her. Her hand made its way to the back of his head, curling in the dark hair there, and pulled him down to meet his lips. He groans against her mouth and she pushes him back, urging him deeper into the TARDIS.

 

“The white one,” She says several hours later as they’re getting dressed again. “It matches better and you look good in it.”

 

She slips his sunglasses onto his face and he wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer for one last kiss before they step outside.

 

**3.**

 

Tired.

 

It’s the first thing that comes to mind when she sees his face. There are dark shadows under his eyes and he moved without the usual energy she’s used to from him. His movements were stilted as he put the TARDIS into the vortex, slightly slumping over the controls.

 

She walks up to him slowly, hand coming up to rest on his cheek then slowly moves to grip his jaw, gently tugging his head up to look at him more closely.

 

“When’s the last time you slept?” She murmurs softly.

 

He pulls away from her and turns back to the console.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“That’s not what I asked, Doctor. When’s the last time you slept? And I mean actually laid down and fallen asleep for more than 20 minutes at a time.”

 

He studiously avoids her eye as he travels around the console, pulling levers and pushing buttons that Clara knows do nothing.

 

“I don’t know, Clara, I don’t keep track like you humans do. You know I don’t need as much sleep.”

 

She rolls her eyes at his defensiveness and continues to follow him around the console.

 

“I know you don’t need as much sleep, but you at least need a few hours. Maybe more depending on how long it’s been.”

 

He stills at the console and drops his head in defeat.

 

“A month. Give or take.” He says quietly. Clara frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything, simply grabs his hand and pulls him along after her.

 

“Clara, where are we going?”

 

She doesn’t answer him, but he doesn’t try to pull away so she takes it as a good sign. They reach their destination and she leads him through the library and to her favorite couch by the fireplace. She sits down and when he doesn’t move she pulls him down with her.

 

“Lay down.” She orders.

 

“You’re kind of in the way.”

 

“Just do it.”

 

He starts to shift and she pulls him down so that his head rests in her lap and he’s looking up at her, eyebrows raised questioningly.

 

“This is the most comfortable spot on the TARDIS to take a nap so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Now, close your eyes.”

 

He does, but can’t stop fidgeting, hands crossing and recrossing, legs constantly shaking.

 

“Stop it, you. Just relax, ok? Just stay still, close your eyes, and breathe.”

 

He sighs and nods, stilling his movements. She places one of her hands in his hair, slowly carding her fingers through the strands. He sighs softly and burrows closer into her lap.

 

Soon enough his breathing evens out and his body relaxes. She studies his face as he sleeps and marvels at how peaceful he looks. His mouth is parted slightly, brow unfurrowed, lines smoothed out. She loves him like this, relaxed and vulnerable, a position he only willingly puts himself in in her presence.

 

She leans over and kisses him softly, unable to resist how adorable he looks. He stirs and blinks his eyes open at her.

 

“It’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

 

He closes his eyes again, all too happy to go back to sleep, turns his head and presses his face into Clara’s stomach, wrapping an arm around her.

 

She smiles gently and leans her head back, reveling in the moment.

 

**4.**

 

She follows him. Which is not altogether too uncommon for her (she gets bored) except she’s been doing it even more often than usual. Every time he goes into the library, not 5 minutes later she’s there, either sitting next to him or somewhere near him. He doesn’t mind her presence, of course, he never does, but he is curious. And he has a theory.

 

He’s sitting in an arm chair, deep into the library and sure enough he hears soft footsteps. She peeks her head around the shelf and grins when she sees him. There’s a book already held in her hand and she flops down on the couch across from him.

 

He watches her for a moment, but doesn’t notice anything strange. She simply opens her book and begins to read. Frowning slightly, he puts on his glasses and opens his own book.

 

He’s lost in the book until he feels it. Eyes on him and he only now notices the absence of the sounds of turning pages and fidgeting from the other side of the room.

 

Clara meets his eyes when he looks up at her, her lips parted and her breathing hitches when he looks at her.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“Nothing.” She says, far too quickly, her voice too high pitched for him to believe her.

 

“You keep staring at me. You’ve been doing it for weeks. Why?”

 

She closes her book and makes her way to him slowly, staring intently at him the whole time, clearly giving up the innocent pretense. He swallows hard and leans back into the chair. She swings her leg over him, straddling him and plunges her hands into his hair, her favorite spot for them.

 

“You look,” She leans forward, breath ghosting over his ear. “So damn good in those glasses.”

 

She tugs gently on his earlobe before kissing her way to his mouth, their lips immediately opening up to each other.

 

“You should’ve told me sooner.” He says, pressing kisses along her jawline. “I would’ve worn them all the time.”

 

She wants to smack him now, every time he puts the glasses on because of the damn smirk that’s plastered on his face. But Clara really can’t resist the glasses.

 

**5.**

 

It’s completely by accident that they end up in this situation, but Clara can’t say that she regrets it.

 

He’d come along with her to do shopping, something that took one hour of arguing and another hour of bargaining and was now in one of those moods that she regretted making him come at all. But they were done, finally, walking back to her flat when they pass it.

 

It’s a pet store that’s having a special deal for National Dog Day and are giving discounts to anyone who adopts. There’s a pen set up outside the doors filled with half a dozen tiny, wriggling furballs, all jumping and playing with one another.

 

“Oh my God.” Clara cries out, her voice going embarrassingly high, as she crouches down to pet one of them. “Doctor, look at them.”

 

She turns around, but the Doctor is no where to be found. She cranes her neck to check both sides of the street, but nothing. She’s interrupted in her search, however, by a worker reaching into the pen and plucking out a tiny chocolate lab puppy and promptly depositing it into the Doctor’s arms, who stands behind him.

 

Clara stands and raises an eyebrow. “Doctor?”

 

He’s not paying attention to her, however, as he smiles down brightly at the puppy who was trying its hardest to lick his face. The Doctor sits down cross-legged on the sidewalk and puts the puppy in his lap. The dog crawls and jumps all over him, at one point even perches itself on his shoulder, making him laugh.

 

“Can we keep him?” The Doctor’s eyes are wide and pleading as he looks at her and he looks so adorable, puppy crawling all over him, a huge smile on his face that she can’t help but lean forward and kiss him soundly.

 

“No.” She says firmly after pulling away. “He’d probably just get lost on the TARDIS and we’d have to spend hours finding him. Plus, I don’t trust you with the responsibility.”

 

He pouts and she kisses him again, but doesn’t change her mind. Needless to say she’s unable to pull him away from the shop for another two hours.

 

**BONUS**

 

His clothes are disappearing.

 

Well, that’s not exactly true. Disappearing seems to insinuate that he doesn’t know where his clothes are. But he knows exactly where his clothes are.

 

“You have an entire wardrobe of your own of clothes that actually fit you, can’t you wear any of those?” This comes after he’s rooted through his entire closet and dresser looking for his favorite jumper only to find it hanging on her bedpost.

 

“I could, sure. But yours are much more comfortable.” She says it without apology and continues her marking.

 

The white shirt he’d been wearing before taking it off to do repairs is missing and this time he’s had enough.

 

He’s on his way to her room when she runs into him coming out of the kitchen. Her hair is in that wavy, messy state it gets in when she hasn’t brushed it and his shirt is hanging off of her, reaching to the middle of her thigh. She’s not wearing anything else, that much he can see.

 

“Doctor?” She asks, her eyes wide.

 

He doesn’t say anything, simply pushes her against the wall, his leg nudging it’s way between hers, his hand reaching under the shirt to rest on the bare skin of her hip. She squeaks in surprise, but quickly returns his bruising kiss.

 

“Please.” He pants, against her lips. “Feel free to wear my clothes whenever you want.”

 

She does.

 

 


End file.
